


First rule of Robin, right?

by ALzzza



Series: Heart of the Home [7]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Robin War (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Knows What's Up People, Dick Grayson is also Protective, Duke Thomas is Protective, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Family Fluff, GASP, Gen, Good Big Brother Dick Grayson, Happy Ending, Nightmares, and he actually gets one, because we ain't about that sad life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 15:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18813838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALzzza/pseuds/ALzzza
Summary: "Nothing’s going to hurt you—you got that,nothing.”Duke doesn’t have anything better to do but it’s not like that matters. Hell, he’d drop everything and run—always in time to catch this little bird.Or, Damian’s Been Having Nightmares, Duke To The Rescue—Dick Always With The Reassurance





	First rule of Robin, right?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solar_celeste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solar_celeste/gifts).



> Okkaaayy, huge shout out to solar_celeste for their prompt!! This is it! Hope you like it, sweetheart! :))

It’s weird walking around Wayne Manor. Usually Duke doesn’t get to... _appreciate_ it. He stays pretty close to whoever when he hangs around.

Tonight, though? Just him and the empty halls.

It’s got this eerie quality, roofs reaching so high Duke doubts he could touch them with a ladder on his side.

Wonders if there’s ghosts or some shit. Do ghosts exist? _Probably_. He should keep a list—check back with Bats because really, this gig is crazy enough. He does _not_ need Casper the Not So Friendly creeping up on him.

He wanders further along, manages not to sigh when all he passes are _more_ closed doors—why do rich people have so many damn _rooms_? Duke could have happily gone his whole life without knowing Wayne Manor was hiding the whole damn monopoly of 'em.

 _Rich people are so weird_.

He only gets a little lost by the time he hears the faint sound of a tv echoing through the halls—shrugs, because what the hell? It’s not like he has anything _better_ to do.

Follows it down the longer than necessary (because _rich people, apparently_ ) hall and peers in the open doorway.

Holds back a smile when he finds Damian Robin That Might Murder You Wayne, curled up on the sofa.

It’s _cute_ , kind of weird like some cracked up parody to see _Damian Wayne_ asleep on the couch—tv going full blast in the background. Duke has to stop and savour it, there’s no way he _can’t_. Not when Damian usually sleeps still and tense as a corpse—it’s a little freaky. But him cuddled over on the couch? Yeah, that’s cute.

His face is curled into his elbow, hiding away from the light probably. So, Duke can’t properly discern if he looks peaceful or some such cliché. Kind of glad, Duke doesn’t think he’s seen _Damian_ look peaceful in the entire time he’s known him, might just jump out of his skin when he does. Content? Sure, but peaceful? That’s a whole other shoe—doesn’t seem to fit real well around Wayne Manor.

It hasn’t fit with Duke in a while either.

He’ll take all the content he can get though, and if that’s watching his favourite little terror sound asleep on the sofa, sue him.

And man, he almost does too. But then he hears the muted whimper, sees Damian’s restrained toss like he’s trying to shake some phantom hand off his shoulder. If he had to guess, Duke would say these hands had _claws_.

He frowns, reminded the universe doesn’t let them have nice things. Wants to go a round or two and show the universe exactly how Duke feels about _that_ but can’t. Takes a couple steps closer to the couch when the whimpering doesn’t stop—tossing getting a little more urgent, phantoms hands all the more _vicious_.

He figures if Damian was a normal kid this would be simple. Just shake them awake with cooing words and the promise of a perfect world. But this is _Robin_ —he’s seen the world and sometimes hell seems like a better place to be. At least there only the sinners get the pain of punishment.

Reality isn’t that easy.

He’s right in front of Damian now, still, he hesitates. Can see his forehead scrunched in pain from where it’s hidden by his arm. Imagines the grimacing lines digging valleys into his head, the terror swimming on that too young face and Duke’s glad again he doesn’t have to see it. Feels his throat closing already, and he’s glad he doesn’t see it because that seems too intimate. _Personal_. Some private moment of weakness that Damian would kill not to show and here he is intruding.

He swallows a breath, leaning forward—hands extended, set to shake Damian awake.

Can’t get that far—because then Damian’s turning, eyes jumping open—too wide, too expressive, too _afraid_ —and then he’s _falling_ off the couch with the momentum. Using it to his advantage and throwing himself at Duke like the warrior he was trained to be.

Except—it’s sloppy and _pleading_. His little body heaving even as he jumps, ready to attack.

Straight at Duke.

And Duke catches him a little too easily, arms coming up to hug him close even as he pushes them to the floor, “Wo _ah_ — _Damian_!” Collapses awkwardly against the wall with him in his lap—fists hitting him hard enough to bruise.

But it’s _messy_ and insistent like he’d jumped to attack on instinct but all he really wants to do now is get _away_. Hands pushing at Duke’s chest forcefully, breathes erratic but he’s not making a _sound_ —swallowing it in his throat somehow as he pushes _and pushes_ _and **pushes**_.

Duke doesn’t let go.

“ _Shh...”_ Duke’s _stronger_ and it’s happening _too fast_ and Damian’s still _heaving_ like he can’t _breathe_ , still fighting like this is _it_ —and he can’t think beyond the little terror in his lap. Beyond each hit of violence born out of _desperation_ against his chest.

Duke holds him. Doesn’t let him go, wonders if that’s a terrible idea even as the hands slow.

“Shh... _Shh_ , it’s Duke.” Speaks out on instinct, whispers just for Damian—Duke’s arms still wrapped securely around him, caging him in a hug. “You’re okay—it’s okay, nothing can hurt you... _Shh_...” Watches the mob of black hair as it tilts forward, face hidden away, but Damian’s hands are slowing. Fists pausing to rest against him. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you, okay?”

And it’s so _quiet_ , like the tv has faded away—drifted off a million miles just to leave them in this empty, empty room—and all Duke can hear is Damian. All Duke can see is Damian. All Duke can think is _Damian_.

Because he’s not making a sound, not moving, not _breathing_ and Duke doesn’t know what to _do_. “ _Shh_...” He soothes again—tries to remember how his mom had hushed him as a child but falls short—can’t scrape together any distant coos—mind moving in a million different ways to try and come up with some of his _own_. Tries again, voice quiet as the empty, empty room, whispers, “I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.”

Doesn’t croon promises of a better world, doesn’t try to chant away his pain. Sticks to the one thing he can control, the one thing he’ll stand by—fight the entire universe and all it’s vicious claws to keep.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you.” And it comes across in his voice, a quiet authority—some near-silent conviction just for Damian. Just for his favourite little terror.

He must hear it, like a thousand battle cries—like a thousand choirs singing, nothing clearer than this _conviction_ , quiet in this empty room, “ _I’m not going to let anything hurt you_.” He must hear it, because next thing he’s collapsing into Duke, little fists melting and shifting to clutch at Duke’s t-shirt.

And Duke still panics, like he’s catching an armful of scared assassin child _again_ —would fumble to the floor with the shock of it if he wasn’t already _there_.

“ _Du-ke_ —” Little terror number one can’t even get a word out because—

Damian’s _crying_.

Damian’s crying and it’s not silent, it’s not _quiet_. It’s like his heart is screaming with the force of it, _gasping_ , whole body sobs rocking into Dukes' chest. The sound so real it’s crawling into Duke’s chest and piercing through his heart—all his tender insides bending and breaking as he tries to figure out what to _do_.

 _How can a child make that sound_?

It would be so much easier if Damian was some normal kid—maybe then Duke could reassure him it was just a dream. He could try _now_... but that feels phony. Shit, Duke knows just as well as anyone; their nightmares are _real_.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you, Damian.” And he keeps crying, keeps _sobbing_ , keeps making those awful, awful sounds—and Duke curls tighter, whole body wrapping around this little kid, huddling around him like maybe it won’t let the monsters in.

They must sit there for hours—sit there until Damian runs out of tears, all of them soaking through Duke's t-shirt.

Until his little hands loosen just a smidge on Duke’s shirt, until he falls asleep again.

Must sit there hours after, just listening to Damian’s quiet little breathes. Drone of the tv filling the room again as Duke strains to hear every tiny little stutter—hands never straying from where they’re wrapped around this kid.

Doesn’t even look up when there’s shuffling at the doorway. Hears someone walking by, hears it when their footsteps pause. Hesitate, then trail back like they only just noticed them nestled against the wall.

Holds his breath and doesn’t look up when they wander closer still, pausing right in front of Duke.

There’s silence for a minute and it seems like the longest minute of his entire _life_.

“Duke...?”

He looks up then, legs still braced against Damian’s back. Looks up at Dick Grayson and feels kind of nervous—watches him towering overhead like he’s some _giant_. Dick must notice _because of course_ _he’d notice_ ‘cause then he’s crouching down—eye level with Duke.

Watches him for a second longer then, “Are you okay?” His voice is pitched quiet like he’s picked up on the mood— _duh_ , he’s asking if Duke’s _okay_ , of course, he picked up on the mood.

He can’t bring himself to do much more than nod, though. And Dick just watches him. Watches him for several long minutes before moving his eyes to Damian—barely visible, buried under Duke’s limbs.

He watches him too, and Duke can’t figure out what’s on his face before he’s looking back again. Holding Duke’s gaze as he slowly, _gently_ unwraps Duke’s hands—unfolds Duke’s legs.

And Duke feels a spike of indignation, hands tightening—feels like he should be _fighting_ to keep Damian _here_.

He doesn’t.

Let’s Dick unravel them—finds Damian curled up smaller than he’d thought was _possible_ as the prize.

Duke stays where he is leaning against the wall, just watches as Dick scoops the little assassin child up as easy as he pleases. Watches as Damian curls closer to _him_.

Watches as Dick looks to Duke before walking out the door.

Continues to watch the doorway long after they leave, stays in the room—tv buzzing in the background. Gets up only when the sound gets too oppressive.

Sways on his feet before wandering into the hall. Wonders if he should _go_. If there’s some protocol he should be following. _Bat Etiquette 101_.

Wishes these guys made handbooks—he’d read the hell outta that thing.

 _Psh_ , ‘cause Duke’s that lucky.

He ends up in the kitchen, the one everyone seems to gravitate to—the lights still on but no one’s there. He’s not so much _glad_... but—he has no idea what he would’ve _done_ if someone was still hanging round.

As it is, he just sits at the table—tries to shake this heavy lull that’s fallen on him like a thick leather jacket. Too big and it’s weighing him down—just gotta shake it _off_.

“Hey,” He startles a bit at Dick’s voice, looks up to find him at the doorway again—he walks in without a sound. Sits opposite Duke, doesn’t wait for a response before saying, “I put him to bed.”

And yeah, that’s probably a good idea. His joints are aching just thinking ‘bout it, throbbing from staying curled in that awkward position too long.

“Thanks,” Dick’s saying again, and Duke just stares—waits for him to finish, “For doing that. He hasn’t been sleeping very well...” Dick leans back to look at the ceiling, hand waving vaguely, “He and B had this case—and _well_ , it brought up a few things.” Looks back at Duke to verbalize, “He’s been having nightmares.”

“I saw.” They stare at each other in silence for a while, then, “Are you the one that usually...” Duke waves his hand vaguely as well.

Dick quirks a smile, and Duke thinks maybe that’s what’s missing. “Yeah, I’m the one that,” He waves his hand again smile growing and Duke smirks back. “Pretty sure Cass found him last time though.” He rolls his eyes but it’s all fond as he continues, “Little twerps been trying to keep himself awake. At this rate, everyone’s gonna have their hand at Damian wrangling.” The silence settles in again but then Dick’s squinting at Duke, laser-focused.

“ _Hey_.” He starts, watching Duke with something in his gaze, “It’s going to be okay.” Adds, “That kid’s got more people by his side than he’d care to admit.”

He looks straight at Duke, that something growing like a wave—blue eyes moving with the tide, “We’re _family_ , Duke. We don’t let anything happen to each other.”

And, _oh_.

Okay, yeah. Those must be the winning words.

Gotta be all kinds of _right_ if Dick Grayson’s throwing them around.

Duke grins at him—feels the air supercharge, all the weight melting down like ice. “Yeah. I _know_ —first rule of Robin, right?” Grins a little wider and says, “What did _you_ say again?

“ _We_ take care of our family.”

Dick smiles that too-wide smile, a breathy laugh escaping his lips, “You got it, Duke Thomas. Only thing you need to know. We take care of our own, ain’t nothing touching that kid.”

Yeah, the world’s in for one hell of a shock—Damian’s got a whole horde of _Bats_ by his side.

 _Ain’t nothing touching that kid_.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. Wow, this is my first Duke fic--but I had to write it. Tiniest little reference to Robin War in there but, eh. *shrugs*
> 
> This was super fun to write so I hope you like it--not much Dami dialogue in there, which is a shame but I think he was a little preoccupied. :( 
> 
> Dick always there with the sap to save the day--just... the Fam loves Damian, okay? Don't @me, I will fight you. >:|
> 
> Comments always welcome!!


End file.
